


Time to Give

by agirlcalledbob



Series: The Kingsman [2]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Kidnapping, Murder, Other, suggested violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:14:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22880086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agirlcalledbob/pseuds/agirlcalledbob
Summary: Wondering what happened to Charlie? Wonder no more.
Series: The Kingsman [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1631500
Comments: 4
Kudos: 37





	Time to Give

**Author's Note:**

> In case you were wanting more information on how Charlie became no longer a problem...  
> And if you haven't read the first story in the series, this will make no sense at all 😄

He stood back, watching impassively as the man came to, realising his predicament quickly when he couldn’t move his arms, or his legs, bound as they were to the metal chair by harsh plastic zip ties, which, in turn, was bolted to the floor of this huge, empty warehouse.

He could hear him muttering, testing the bonds, which would hold – there was no fear there – becoming more panicky as he realized it, until he was twisting his head, calling out for help. Help that wasn’t coming on this largely derelict industrial estate.

Harry finally strode over after several amusing minutes, entering into Charlie’s line of sight with an insouciance that would have put the fear of God into a more intelligent man. But Charlie wasn’t intelligent, that much was clear from his chosen profession. Not even a kingpin, like his boss. Simply a dealer and a runner – no better than Dean Baker, for all he clearly thought he was.

Charlie looked ridiculous. It was partially Harry’s fault, pulling the fire alarm at the mansion block of flats, where Charlie nested like the rat he was, had been the quickest way to get the man onto the street at two in the morning. So that was an excuse for the short, silky dressing gown that made him look like a particularly ineffectual geisha. And the belt across the back of the head, to disorient him enough to push him into the boot of the rented Ford Mondeo, was to blame for the trickle of blood down his neck, and the unfocused effect of his eyes. But the auburn roots fading into the hideous blond bleach job was all Charlie, as were the bloodshot eyes and bruised bags under them, no doubt caused by too much partaking in his own product. Well, not actually his own, which was why his boss had been more than happy to have the problem taken off his hands so he could deal with Dean Baker himself, safe in the knowledge Charlie would no longer be his issue. 

Not that Phelps had any idea of who was asking after Charlie Hesketh. This wasn’t Harry’s first rodeo. He knew of the man from a fellow solicitor in another firm, and got his details from Roxy – of course the man was on their radar – who sensibly asked no questions, and she’d forget the enquiry the minute after it was asked, for her Uncle Harry. But Phelps been appropriately disgusted when Harry told him what Charlie, and Dean, had been up to (and if some of it had been made up because Harry didn’t actually know, or _want_ to know, the full details, then so be it), and had promised to deal with Baker if the disembodied voice at the other end of the phone call dealt with Charlie – giving up his address and preferred haunts. 

So, Charlie had been almost boringly easy to get hold of. Harry had been tempted to take him more dramatically, but he held down his usual peacocking for the sake of staying below the parapet. He intended for this incident to pass very quickly from the authorities’ consciousness. No, there was a far more fundamental need he was fulfilling, even if the beneficiary had no idea – and never would. 

Harry was very good at what he did with his very specialised set of skills. Charlie remained conscious, and in great pain, until close to the end, as Harry wanted him. But he certainly wasn’t as Harry peeled off the once-white Tyvek suit and balled it into the plastic bag he’d brought for the purpose. A separate, clear plastic bag finished the job, and was then added to the rubbish, which would be disposed of in a residential wheelie bin several boroughs away, where it was bin day, under the cover of the early morning greyness. 

Harry walked away without a glance back, hearing the excitable scritchings of the army of rats that populated the long-abandoned warehouse as they smelled the fresh, clotted blood. They would clean up for him, aptly, and, perhaps, in a month or so, Harry would place an anonymous tip to the local police, to allow closure for the man’s estranged family, and for anyone else who would benefit from it.

* * * * * 

Harry has almost forgotten what he did. It’s easy. Frankly, he’s done worse to better people, at the behest of the Government, and he feels no guilt for this one.

“There was an article in the paper this morning,” Merlin leaned back against the booth, crossing his long legs and looking right into Harry’s eyes with a neutral expression.  
“You still read a paper? Move into the twenty-first century my good man.”  
“They found a body in an abandoned warehouse, they suspect some kind of gangland hit,” Merlin ignored Harry’s interjection.  
“Oh?”  
“Yes, somewhat decomposed, but they managed to identify it as one Charles Edward Hesketh, through partial dental records. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?”  
“Why would I? How’s Eggsy, anyway? Fully back in the fold?”  
“Resolutely. Things are going extremely well.”  
“Did you tell him about this body of yours?”  
“I will, when he arrives at mine later. Is there anything else I need to tell him?”  
“I imagine you had to make all sorts of promises to that sweet boy to secure him as yours.”  
“Wha-,”  
“Like promise him absolute honesty in everything going forward. Promise that you would never withhold anything from him again.” Merlin took a sip of his pint as he pondered Harry’s words. “It would be my suggestion that you give him the completely coincidental piece of good news that the paper provided you with, and derive satisfaction from it, and then never spare that waste of skin another thought in your lives.”  
“As you wish, Harry.”

**Author's Note:**

> I can't write super violent stuff. My imagination has it - and in my mind this was gross and visceral - but what came out was this. So if you want to use your imagination, know Harry has a lot of skills and Charlie suffered. And if you don't want to, just know that Eggsy will never have to worry about Charlie again.


End file.
